


Guardians

by popfly



Series: This Might Help Ficlets [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fix-It, this might help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://www.keysmashblog.com">Keysmash</a>'s This Might Help challenge, week ten, episode 3.10 "The Overlooked".</p>
    </blockquote>





	Guardians

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Keysmash](http://www.keysmashblog.com)'s This Might Help challenge, week ten, episode 3.10 "The Overlooked".

He doesn’t speak when they come in, because there’s no point. Years of police work teaches when to talk and when to keep your mouth shut and listen. This is definitely a listening moment.

He listens as the woman - the thing, maybe, he’s not sure what she is - calling herself Ms. Blake drags Melissa across the floor, scrub-clad legs leaving trails in the dust and ash. He listens as Ms. Blake trusses Melissa up the same way he himself is tied, and then listens as Ms. Blake assures herself that they’re both secure, and won’t be found.

“Welcome to the nemeton,” she says, and smiles, and if one of his hands was free - just one, he’d tear her head right off.

“Go to hell,” he says, because now is a speaking moment. Her smile widens, and she blows him a kiss before turning on her heel.

“Sit tight,” she says as she goes, and he grits his teeth.

Melissa’s chest is rising and falling, albeit sluggishly. Her hair is curling out of her ponytail, and her scrubs are smudged with dirt. She looks rough, slumped forward in what can’t be a comfortable position.

If one of his hands was free he’d smooth her hair back, tuck it behind her ear. He’d been wondering lately what it would be like, to touch her that way. He’d been wondering a lot of things, lately.

He watches her until she jerks awake, craning her neck around, eyes going wide with panic.

“Hey, hey,” he says, keeping his voice soft, trying not to startle her more. “You alright?”

“Oh god, where are we?”

“I don’t know. Looks like a root cellar to me, but she called it something different.” He watches her face, says, “She called it nemeton.”

Melissa’s eyes widen a little more, and he tugs at his restraints, testing them again, as if they’d have loosened magically since the last time he’d tried.

They’re tied fairly close together; if he lowered the toes of his boots he’d touch her well-worn sneakers. Instead he slides his feet out a little further, presses his soles to the dirty floor, bracketing her feet. They’re so small compared to his.

“Melissa,” he says, and his throat goes tight. “How much do you know?”

“Almost everything, I think,” she says, and she’s looking down at their feet, too. She moves slightly, inching her ankles closer to his, until they’re pressed together. It’s oddly comforting. “You?”

“Stiles,” he starts, and swallows. “Stiles tried to tell me, but - “ He has to breathe for a moment, eyes pricking in the dry, dusty air. “I didn’t believe him.”

Her leg presses harder against his, and he looks up, meets her eyes. “I doubt I would’ve, either, if I hadn’t seen it firsthand.”

“Yeah, but - “

“John,” she says, cutting him off. Her tone is firm but her eyes are soft. “Let’s focus on getting out of here and then you can make it up to him, okay?”

He nods. He can do that. He’s trained to put logic and reason first.

She smiles, small and obviously forced, but still sweet.

“If one of my hands was free,” he says, and he thinks she gets it when her smile gets wider, more sincere.

“If one of your hands was free it would be working to get the other one free so you could untie us both.”

He laughs, swirling ash in the air, and she tilts her head.

“We can discuss what happens after that when we’re out of here.”


End file.
